


You Can't Change History (and I wouldn't if I could)

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: collarkink, F/M, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-09
Updated: 2010-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:32:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When their latest case has ties to his past as a sex worker, Neal goes undercover as himself, and Peter isn't happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Change History (and I wouldn't if I could)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://community.livejournal.com/collarkink/1404.html?thread=1998204#t1998204) prompt on collarkink. Beta read by Lefaym.

Neal settled in his chair in Peter's office, cup of crappy coffee in his hand. He dumped as much non-dairy creamer and sugar substitute in it as he could to take off the edge, but nothing could cover up the metallic aftertaste. He grimaced as Peter followed him into the office, his own cup of coffee in one hand and a blue folder in the other.

"New case?" Neal asked.

"New case," Peter replied. He set down his mug and sat on the edge of his desk, his knee only inches away from Neal's. He opened the folder and looked over it. "We're investigating the CEO of Hype Mobile, Asa McClellan. Apparently, he's been embezzling money from the company for about five years, or so the board of directors suspects."

"Asa McClellan?" Neal stood and looked at the file to see what he was really hoping for, a photograph. "He's CEO now?"

Peter glanced at him, surprised. "You know him?"

"I did, about ten years ago. He's a nice guy."

"So are you, but that doesn't make either one of you any less of a criminal."

Neal put on a forced smile. "Thanks for that."

Peter smiled for a moment, then it faded. "Is that going to be a problem? Investigating someone you know?"

"No, not at all. You know, that could be an in. I could go in as myself and get access to his computer, his files. He already trusts me."

"You haven't seen the guy in ten years, how do you know he still trusts you?" Peter paused. "How _do_ you know him? I can't think of too many CEOs who know you for your trustworthiness."

Neal chuckled. "I know him personally. He was in marketing or something for Hype back then. He clearly worked his way up through the company, and embezzling money the entire way. Probably to help pay for his vices."

"Vices?" Peter repeated. "Drugs?"

"Male escorts," Neal replied. He took a sip of his coffee and made a face. "Very high class. And not just that, he takes them out, shows them a good time before they return the favor. He likes the idea of it being a date."

Peter hummed, considering the information. Then his brow furrowed and he looked at Neal carefully. "How is it that you know McClellan? Exactly?"

Neal grinned. "I used to work as an escort. It's great work if you're into that kind of thing."

Peter stared at him. "You... I had no idea."

"It's not something I go around telling people, but it's not a secret."

"So this guy took you out and showed you a good time." Peter's voice was oddly flat.

"Yeah," Neal said, feeling a little excited, remembering what it had been like. "He took me to great restaurants and, frankly, half of what I know about wine, I learned from him. We went to the theatre, the opera, and so many museums. He cultured me in ways I'd never experienced before."

Peter set his jaw in an unpleasant frown. "And then he... _cultured_ you."

Neal blinked, his excitement fading quickly. "Yeah. If you want to put it that way. I saw him a couple times a week for about a year."

"And you were close."

"It was business." Neal cocked his head to the side and looked at Peter for a long moment. "Why are you acting so weird? And don't tell me it's because it's illegal. I know everyone turns a blind eye to escort services unless things get out of hand."

"It's -- Neal, you're better than that," Peter said, pulling away slightly.

Neal shook his head. "Better than what? I'd do it again now if I needed the money and I wasn't stuck to a two mile radius. And the tracker wouldn't do, because there is a level of discretion involved. But it's a great way to make cash fast. And you know me, Peter. I like people. It was fun."

"It was fun being a hooker."

"An escort. And, yes it was. I enjoyed myself."

"Then why did you ever quit?" Peter asked, his voice edging with sarcasm.

Neal shrugged. "I met Mozzie and Kate, and things happened there. It was time to move on." He swallowed and looked back down at the file, ready to get back onto the subject of the case. "Does it sound like a reasonable way in? Even if he doesn't want to pick up where we left off, you know I'll be able to distract him long enough to get into his computer. It's not like you can send me in as anyone but myself, since he knows me."

"I could bench you."

"Oh, come on, Peter. This is a good angle for the case and you know it."

Peter snapped the folder shut. "I'll have to clear it first," he said, and left the office.

Neal took that as a yes, but the small victory felt hollow. _This_ was why he didn't go around telling people about his past in sex work. No one seemed to understand that he could have enjoyed the work, even though he had. He had always been good with people, and it had been great training for reading people's body language and figuring out what they wanted. It was a skill he used all the time.

But the people he told either felt sorry for him or were disgusted. Peter, however, seemed angry, and Neal couldn't figure out why.

Of all the illegal things Neal had done, this couldn't be more than a blip.

He stared down at the milky brown contents of his mug and noticed a thin, iridescent film across the top. Disgusted, he set the mug aside and frowned at his reflection in the glass wall.

\--- --- ---

The next day, Neal went to visit Asa McClellan at his office. Neal took one last glance at himself in the reflection of the elevator doors, checking his tie and his teeth before heading toward the secretary's desk. She looked up at him and smiled as he neared.

"What can I do for you?"

"Neal Caffrey," he replied, holding his hands behind his back, smiling back at her. "The last minute addition."

"That's right. Go on in, Mr. McClellan is waiting."

"Thank you." Neal walked to the frosted glass double doors and pushed them open. The office was large and airy, decorated in chrome and glass, and it had a great view of downtown Manhattan.

"Neal."

He turned from the window at the sound of his name and grinned.

In a lot of ways, Asa looked as he did ten years ago: stocky, a couple inches shorter than Neal, with a nice body, though his stomach and ass were soft. However, as Neal had noticed in the photographs the Bureau supplied, Asa's dark crop of hair was thinner and grey around the temples, and he now had a neatly trimmed beard. Where once his face looked deceptively young, he now looked every one of his forty-nine years. Maybe it was the beard, or maybe it was the job. Or the stress of embezzling over fifteen million dollars from your company over the course of five years.

Asa came closer to him, and they embraced. "It's so good to see you," Asa mumbled into his ear.

"You too," Neal replied. He pulled back, but stayed in Asa's space. "It's been a long time."

"It has. I'm so glad you contacted me." Asa walked over to a glass tray with a large selection of alcohol. He flipped over two tumblers and poured himself a scotch. "Would you like one?"

Neal smiled. "Yes, thank you."

Drinks in hands, Asa led Neal to a white leather sofa sitting in front of the window with the spectacular view. They sat next to each other and Neal crossed his leg so his foot just barely bumped the cuff of Asa's trousers.

"You seem to be doing well for yourself," Neal said, holding onto his tumbler, but not drinking from it. "How long have you been CEO?"

"Three years," Asa replied. He smiled to himself. "It's been a very... long three years."

Neal chuckled. "And how's your wife? Hannah, was it?"

"Hannah, yes. We divorced about five years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Neal said, though he didn't sound sorry in the least.

Asa laughed. "I'm not." He took a sip of his drink and adjusted how he was sitting so his body leaned closer to Neal. "How are you doing, Neal? I haven't heard from you in over a decade, and now you're here." He reached up and gently touched Neal's cheek with the back of his hand. "Back in my life."

Neal just barely leaned into the touch. "I'm fantastic."

"You do seem to be doing well for yourself as well." Asa's eyes lingered over the suit and paused just a moment on Neal's cuff links. "But old friends don't stop by my office out of the blue without a reason. And I recall seeing your mug shot on the front page of a newspaper last year."

"I really don't like that picture," Neal said, smiling sheepishly. "I'll admit, I had an incident."

"You were in prison."

"Yes, I was, but I'm out now. And I do have a reason to be here."

Asa smiled. "Then by all means share."

"I need money," Neal said. His smile had faded, and he put on his business face. "I know it may not look like it, but right now I'm keeping up appearances. I didn't want to walk in here and see you while wearing... look. I'm not asking for a handout, or even a loan, I still respect you too much for that, Asa, but I was wondering -- I was _hoping_ that I could work for it." He rested a hand on Asa's wrist and looked up at him through dark lashes.

"Oh," Asa said, looking down at Neal's hand. He swallowed and the pause was going on longer than Neal would have liked, so he kept talking.

"I know I'm older now--"

"So am I," Asa said, like Neal's words broke him out of a trance.

"I don't know that I'm still what you're looking for."

Asa leaned in, his face just inches from Neal's. "Neal, as wine connoisseurs, we know that so many things only get better with age. Look at you. You look better than you did then. I don't need a twenty-three year old boy anymore. I think we've both grown up."

Neal smiled, then closed the gap between then, kissing Asa on the mouth. The beard was a new sensation, scratchy against Neal's cheek, but he liked it. He liked Asa's hand in his hair, cupping the back of his head, holding him in place as his tongue slipped into Neal's mouth.

When they parted, Neal felt warm and a little aroused. It had been a long time since he'd had that feeling.

Asa sat back and smiled too. "I have tickets to the opera for Saturday night. Dinner, and then back to mine? If you're interested. And we can do something about your money problems."

"Yes, thank you," Neal replied. He kissed Asa again, then stood. "I'll let you get back to work."

\--- --- ---

That evening, Neal sat in the car in silence as Peter drove him home. Neal glanced over at him a few times, and even fiddled with the map feature on the Taurus, but he didn't receive even a hint of recognition.

Neal had been wearing a watch with a transmitter, so the team could hear every word of his conversation with Asa. Neal had been perfectly aware of the detached way the team treated him when he got back to the van. Their discomfort was making _him_ uncomfortable. He didn't like that feeling, so he tried levity by cracking a few jokes. He got to Diana and Jones, but Peter never quite made eye contact with him all day.

"Are you just not going to talk to me through this entire case?" Neal asked, breaking the silence when they were only a few blocks away from June's.

"Maybe," Peter replied. He kept his gaze on the road in front of him, which was unlike him. Peter was always looking over at Neal and talking with his hands as he drove. It could be sometimes frightening, but now Neal longed for it. He just wanted something to be normal.

They stopped at a traffic light, and finally Peter turned his head toward Neal. "You don't have to sleep with him. The Bureau doesn't ask that of its agents. Or its CI's."

"I know," Neal replied. "Diana gave me the whole run down of things I'm not required to do. But can if I feel comfortable."

"Neal..."

"What? It's not like I haven't slept with him before. The whole idea is that I'm going to sleep with him. He's expecting it. We don't want him to get suspicious. It's part of the job."

"No, it's not. There's a line there that you don't have to cross," Peter said as the light turned green.

Neal laughed. "I'm happy to cross the line. This is my job and if this is what it takes to catch him, then I'm willing. I don't have anyone to be faithful to, and I love the opera. I can have a good time and catch the bad guy. There's nothing stopping me."

"What about standards? Self-respect? You're a lot more than some rich guy's whore."

Neal stared at Peter, the last of his smile melting away in an instant, before he turned away. It was like a slap in the face. Peter had called him a lot of things. Felon. Convict. Criminal. Neal didn't like any of the names, but at least those were facts. Neal had never felt like a whore. He hadn't even considered the word.

"Is that what you think?" Neal asked. His voice sounded strange. Quiet. Possibly even unsure.

"What else am I supposed to think? What's anyone supposed to think, Neal? Maybe if you acted embarrassed by it--"

"Oh, you want me to be ashamed of myself?" Neal snapped back into himself. "Because I'm not. I'm not ashamed of anything I've done. It was a job, Peter. One that I liked doing and I was good at. Do you know what one night with me cost? A thousand dollars. I was that good at it. I would think that you'd understand that, being good at your job."

Peter stammered for a moment, then he exclaimed, "I don't fuck strangers for money!"

Neal threw up his hands and looked out the window. He didn't want to have this conversation anymore. He couldn't stand to listen to Peter judge him. It happened all the time, but this time it hurt.

When Peter pulled the car up in front of June's house, Neal got out without a word.

\--- --- ---

Peter picked at his dinner, but halfway through he gave up, pushing his plate away.

Elizabeth, who had been watching him push food around his plate for the last ten minutes, sighed and covered his hand with her own. "What's Neal done now?"

"Nothing," Peter said, shaking his head. "We got into it when I was driving him home."

"Is this still about the prostitution thing?" Elizabeth asked. He had told her about the whole case the day before and Neal's history with McClellan, and how Neal was so casual about it.

Peter nodded. "I don't get it. I'm telling him he doesn't have to sleep with this guy, even for the sake of the case, because the FBI doesn't work that way, and he's telling me he doesn't mind. Like it's no big deal."

"Maybe it isn't."

"How is that?" Peter asked, genuinely puzzled at the concept. He couldn't help it. This wasn't wondering why one person would rob a bank and another wouldn't. This seemed so simple and obvious. Sex was special. Even when it's frantic and ugly, and over quickly, or with a stranger (though Peter hadn't had sex with a stranger in over fifteen years), there's still something there. Something that draws two people together. Something that isn't a cash exchange.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Honey, not everyone has the same ideas about sex as you do."

"But that's the bizarre part! Neal does. He always has. He may flirt with everyone, but he's... he was always faithful to Kate, even after she'd left him. He once lectured a suspect about monogamy. This isn't Neal. He thinks this stuff is important."

"Just because he does now, doesn't mean he always did. And Kate's gone now," Elizabeth said gently. She squeezed Peter's hand. "What's really bothering you?"

"Other than the fact that my partner used to be a hooker?" Peter asked.

"Other than that."

He paused to consider the question, then shook his head. "Nothing."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Neal has a past that you didn't know about, and I know you thought you knew everything about him. Especially when it's something that seemingly goes against everything you do know about him, and that's not bothering you, even a little?"

"It's not against everything I know about him," Peter said with a shrug. "The illegal part seems right."

She laughed. "I'm being serious. You thought you knew Neal better than anyone."

"I do know him better than anyone. Sometimes I wish I didn't know as much as I do. This is one of those things. It does, it changes how I see him."

Elizabeth frowned. "He's still the same person. All of this happened before you knew about it. The only difference is that you know." She pulled her hand away from his and reached for her wine glass. "Is that the only thing that's getting to you? His attitude about it?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, blinking at her. "What else would it be?"

"Did you know that he's been with men before this?"

"No, but -- El, _I've_ slept with men. I don't care about Neal's orientation. I just don't want to fight with him." Peter reached forward and picked his fork off his plate and started fiddling with it. He very deliberately avoided Elizabeth's gaze and said, "I called him a whore."

"Why would you do that?" she asked, and Peter was glad he wasn't looking at her. The surprise and disappointment in her voice was enough to send his guilt into overdrive.

He shook his head. "I don't know. It came out and I didn't even apologize."

"Have you ever actually apologized to Neal for anything you've said to him?"

"No, I don't think so," Peter admitted, "but this was uncalled for. It was unprofessional and it doesn't matter how I feel about Neal's past, he didn't deserve it. I didn't even really mean it, I was so _frustrated_ that he could be nonchalant about it." He sighed and tossed the fork back onto the plate with a satisfying clank. "I'm the one with the problem, not him."

Elizabeth stood, picking up their unfinished plates and leaned over to kiss Peter's forehead. "I think you should tell him exactly what you just said," she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

Peter frowned. It was difficult enough saying it to her.

"Peter."

He looked up and Elizabeth was suddenly standing next to him. She leaned over him again, this time kissing him on the mouth. He blanked out for a moment, focused on her lips and her tongue gently sliding into his mouth, and her hand sweeping through his hair. She pulled away and blinked at her.

"You're going to do the right thing," she said, her voice full of confidence in him. She kissed him briefly and tapped the end his nose with her finger. "Now help me clear the table."

\--- --- ---

Neal had forgotten how much he had missed the opera. He realized, about halfway through act one, that the last time he had gone was with Asa, ten years ago. As he watched the rather lovely production of _La Traviata_ in front of him, he wondered how difficult it would be to convince June or possibly Elizabeth to come with him again. Mozzie wouldn't need convincing.

Dinner had been easy. Neal could keep a conversation about anything, and Asa had been impressed with Neal's continuing study of art. The more they talked, Neal began to realize how much of his knowledge, and not just wine and art, he owed to Asa. He'd soaked in the information like a sponge and he hadn't even realized it.

As much as he was appreciating the opera (and imagining a very bored Peter in the van, listening to the entire thing through the transmitter in Neal's watch), Neal wasn't keen on waiting. To an extent, this was simply holding off the inevitable.

The curtain fell and Neal and Asa exited the building slowly, with the rest of the audience. Neal relaxed against Asa's hand on the small of his back as they discussed the strengths and weaknesses of the cast.

"This has been fantastic," Neal said once they were in the privacy of the backseat of the town car Asa had hired for the evening. He took Asa's hand and laced their fingers together. "Thank you."

"The night's not over yet," Asa reminded him. He smiled and Neal took the cue to lean over and kiss him. As the kiss deepened, Neal flipped over partway so he was leaning against Asa's chest, giving himself better leverage. He moaned when he felt Asa's hand on his crotch.

"Just like old times," Neal mumbled.

Asa laughed and slid his arm around Neal's waist, pulling him closer. The rest of the car ride was spent kissing with Asa's tongue in Neal's mouth and his hand fondling Neal's cock through his trousers, teasing him and driving him crazy. By the time they reached Asa's home, a penthouse apartment on the upper east side, Neal was hard and aching, almost past the point of enjoyment.

Alone in the bedroom, Asa took off his jacket. "No more teasing, baby. Take off your clothes." He sat down on the bed and leaned against the headboard, waiting for the show.

Neal grinned. He stood at the end of the bed and stripped confidently, trying to ignore the throbbing between his legs. He made sure to leave his watch on top of the pile of clothes on the nearby armchair so the transmitter wouldn't be obstructed by anything.

He didn't move once he was naked, letting Asa take in the sight of him. It had been a long time. This was the ten years later version of Neal, with his cock hard and wet and shiny with an embarrassing amount of pre-come.

"Fuck," Asa said, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He scanned every inch of Neal, from his chest downward, then back up again. He extended his hand to Neal. "Come here."

Neal took his hand and climbed onto the bed. He sat up on his knees, waiting for the next order. He hadn't forgotten how Asa liked to boss him around.

He gasped when Asa, without warning, ducked his head down to take Neal's dick into his mouth. Neal brought his hands down to rest on the back of Asa's head. He moaned, fingers curling in Asa's hair, and Neal wondered if the whole team was listening in the van, or if Peter had taken it off speaker and was listening alone through the headset. He wasn't sure which idea was more arousing.

Asa lifted his head and sat back. "Come in your hand, then lick it up."

Neal exhaled slowly and wrapped a hand around his cock. He wondered if the unmistakable sound of skin slapping as he jerked off could be picked up through the transmitter. He came quickly, gasping, aware of the little obscene noises he was making from deep within his throat. He held for a moment, still pulling on his cock, working the last of the come out of it, and he wiped it against his sticky palm before bringing his hand to his mouth. The come was bitter, but he licked it all away.

"Good boy," Asa said, beckoning Neal closer.

Neal fell forward and began pulling at the buttons on Asa's shirt. He buried his face in Asa's chest, catching a nipple with his tongue. Asa moaned and slid his hands down the back of Neal's shoulders.

"You're so sexy," Asa muttered, and Neal opened his eyes. There was something about the tone of Asa's voice that didn't settle quite right with Neal. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it wasn't right and he knew it.

He had a signal phrase (a safe word, he'd joked earlier in the day) for if he needed backup, but he didn't want to use it on a gut feeling. They didn't have any concrete evidence on him, and it was too early to show their hand.

Asa slipped his first two fingers under Neal's chin, encouraging him upward. He kissed Neal when they were face-to-face. "I'm going to fuck you."

Neal grinned. He tilted his head to the side and gently nipped Asa's earlobe. "And I'm going to love it," he whispered.

\--- --- ---

Peter held the headphone to his ear. On the other side of the van, Jones had his headphones on. They pointedly didn't look at each other.

It was bad enough knowing exactly what Neal was up there doing, but listening in on it was a whole different level of awkward. Peter had asked Jones twice if he minded listening. He wanted a second pair of ears, just in case Jones could catch something he may have missed, but the three other agents also in the van didn't need to hear it.

Peter trusted Jones, and he knew Neal did too. When he asked, rather apologetically, Jones had shrugged and said it was part of the job.

That's what Neal said about this job, too.

Through the speaker, he heard Neal make a noise Peter had never heard from him before. It sounded like something between a groan and a whine, and for a moment Peter wondered what could have caused that reaction. Then he heard McClellan say, "God, you're tight."

Oh.

Peter looked down at the floor of the van. He didn't want the other agents to know that this was driving him crazy. He hated the thought of this man with his hands all over Neal. Peter didn't care what Neal had to say on the subject, he _was_ better than this. McClellan didn't care about him; all he wanted was a sex toy he could parade around at fancy restaurants. But Neal wasn't a toy. He was a person with friends and a life, and the smartest guy Peter knew.

Yes, he was better than this, and Peter couldn't understand why Neal didn't seem to care.

"When was the last time you were fucked?" McClellan asked.

"A long time ago," Neal replied. He sounded tense, and Peter wondered if something was wrong, or if that was just the effect of whatever McClellan was doing to him.

"It might have even been you," Neal continued. His voice had dropped down to a low, seductive tone, though still a little stressed, and Peter instantly felt better. Neal was okay.

"Mmm, I like that," McClellan said. "I like that I was the last one here."

Peter stared at a gum wrapper that had been left on the floor. He thought the opera had been the longest two hours of his life, but it seemed like a breeze compared to the excruciatingly long time it was taking for Neal and McClellan to screw. He glanced at his watch and realized they had only been in the penthouse for about ten minutes.

He ran a hand over his face. This was going to be a long night.

\--- --- ---

Neal took a deep breath, leaning back against the pillows. This was the part he could enjoy. His ankles rested on Asa's shoulders as he was being soundly fucked, and it felt _fantastic_. Asa was skilled, working into Neal at just the right angles, and touched Neal all over. Neal raised his hips when Asa's fingers brushed against his balls, and he relaxed again when Asa ran his hands up the inside of Neal's thighs.

However, when Asa turned his head and kissed the inside of Neal's left ankle, Neal felt his stomach turn over in a wave of nausea. He swallowed hard and exhaled slowly. It passed just as quickly as it started, and he was pretty sure Asa didn't notice.

"Harder," Neal mumbled. Louder, he said, "More, please, please. _Fuck_ , Asa, please."

Shit. Peter heard that. Peter heard him shamelessly begging and meaning every word of it. He could hear Neal's moaning, and maybe even the sound of Asa's balls slapping against Neal's ass as he fucked Neal harder. Neal closed his eyes and imagined Peter in the van, growing hard and hoping no one noticed the red flush creeping up the back of his neck. God, Peter hearing the moans and the whimpers.

Neal grabbed his cock and began jacking himself, babbling pleas to Asa until the buildup peaked and he came, spurting all over his stomach. His cry was strangled and loud, half for show, knowing Asa liked him vocal. Peter heard that, too.

"Shit, Neal," Asa mumbled. He pulled out and Neal felt his whole body suddenly relax. He'd come and he didn't have to hold himself up anymore. He let out a satisfied moan, feeling comfortable and pleasantly sore.

Asa removed the condom and leaned between Neal's open legs. He started jerking off and Neal casually rubbed the inside of his leg against Asa's thigh.

"Come on, baby," Neal purred. "You know you want to."

Swearing, Asa pumped faster, his face growing red.

Neal kept talking, trying to be encouraging and dirty, but it all sounded like nonsense to him. It was a jumble of pet names, swears, and cliché phrases, and Peter was hearing every salacious word. Now Neal imagined the Peter in his mind to be both shocked and disgusted, but still aroused.

Gasping for air, Asa came, shooting hot come across Neal's abdomen. He collapsed next to Neal and pressed a sweaty kiss to his mouth.

"Better with age?" Neal asked with a lazy grin.

Asa chuckled. "Yes. There's tissues in the drawer, if you want to clean up."

"I sort of like being messy," Neal said, running his fingers through the sticky come across his stomach. Semen had pooled in his navel. "It's nice."

"And what," Asa mumbled against Neal's ear, "would your friends from the FBI think of that?"

Neal's shoulders tensed for just a moment. He turned his face toward Asa and sounding both puzzled and amused asked, "What?"

"You think I didn't look you up? That I don't have the right connections?" Asa asked, his voice still low. He wrapped a hand around Neal's wrist. "I knew something wasn't right when you came in out of the blue. I know everything about your arrest and your parole."

"Asa, please," Neal said, trying to pull his hand away. "I can explain everything, but can we talk about it later? I'm not ready." The activation phrase. Any minute now, Peter and his team was going to come through that door. He just had to hold Asa off until then.

"We're going to talk about this now." Still holding onto Neal's wrist, Asa rolled on top of him and pinned him to the bed. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm not investigating anything," Neal said, his voice steady, though his heart was pounding. He felt more vulnerable than he ever preferred to be. "The FBI doesn't pay well, not to a convict. I needed the money."

Asa lifted his hand and balled it into a fist, swinging it hard and smacking Neal across the jaw. "Don't lie to me!"

"I needed the money," Neal repeated, though it was slightly slurred this time. He felt like his mouth was set wrong, and he wondered if Asa had just broken his jaw. It hurt, but probably not that much. "Do you think I would do that to you? After all you've done for me?"

Something in his voice must have stirred in Asa. While he still looked angry, he shook his head. "I don't know what to think. All I know is that I have an FBI parolee in my bed."

"Who just slept with you for money," Neal said. "Do you think the FBI does that?"

"I don't know." Asa seemed suddenly less sure of himself, his hands shaking.

"Why would they be investigating you anyway?"

That was clearly the wrong thing to say, because Asa smacked him across the face again, the heel of his hand making impact just below Neal's temple. "Shut up!"

This time Neal's vision whited out for a moment, before everything came back into focus. He paused to gather himself before speaking again. "Asa, please, don't do this. I wouldn't--"

Neal's words were cut off the by the doors opening and the sound of Peter's voice shouting, "FBI! Put your hands in the air!"

Asa stared at Neal as he raised his hands. "You wouldn't, huh? After all I did for you, you good for nothing whore!"

Neal didn't reply. He watched as an agent handcuffed Asa and pulled him off the bed, Asa struggling and still shouting at Neal.

Neal sat up, ignoring Asa as well as he could, and pulled a blanket over his lap. He didn't need everyone seeing him naked and covered with come. He had to walk into the office on Monday, and thought he would prefer it if half the agents weren't thinking about his penis.

He looked over to see Peter holstering his weapon, and looking at Asa with disgust.

"Read him his rights," Peter said. "And get him some clothes." He turned to Neal. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Neal replied. "Just waiting for the room to clear so I can put on some pants."

Peter laughed, then his smile faded. He reached out and touched Neal's chin with the tips of his fingers. "We should have you checked out. It looks like he got you pretty hard."

Neal shook his head. "I'm fine, really. I'm just ready to go home and take a shower."

Peter's mouth was set in a disapproving line, but he nodded. "All right, if that's what you want."

"You don't have him on anything, you can't hold him," Neal said, nodding over to where an agent was leading a dressed Asa out of the room.

"We have him on solicitation and assault," Peter replied, eyeing Asa with a look of contempt. When he turned his attention back to Neal, his eyes softened. "Everything else will come out. Don't worry, Neal. This wasn't for nothing."

Neal nodded, turning his gaze downward, looking at his hands. He could see dried semen on the backs of his fingers. He glanced up at Peter, smiling. "So, how did you like the opera?"

Peter groaned. "Never again."

Neal laughed. "Glad I wasn't in the van, with your complaining." His smile disappeared and his voice dropped low. "Did you listen to the whole thing?"

Peter nodded, and from his expression, Neal knew he didn't mean just the opera. "Jones, too. But no one else."

"Good," Neal said. "I appreciate that. Thank you."

"You've earned some privacy," Peter replied. He sighed and a ran a hand over the back of his neck, surveying the room before setting his gaze back on Neal. "I guess this changes your perspective on prostitution."

Neal stared at him for nearly a minute, processing what Peter just said to him. "No, I mean... no. Being an escort was always safe--"

"I know you haven't seen what he did to your face, but--"

"But it wasn't the sex that did that," Neal interrupted. "Being an escort wasn't dangerous. I had dozens of clients and nothing like this ever happened to me. Working for the FBI made it dangerous. If he hadn't known I was FBI, and I know you guys did everything you could to run that trail cold, but if he hadn't known, he'd be asleep right now and I'd be getting into his computer. Nothing like this ever happened to me when I was an escort. Actually, now that I'm working with you, it's happening on a pretty regular basis."

Peter mouth hung open as he clearly tried to think of something to say to that.

"I'm not blaming you, Peter. This plan was my idea, and you went along with it. But... at least when I was an escort I got paid more than meal money for my services."

Peter was silent, and then he looked around. "Room's clear, get dressed. I'll take you home." He turned and left the bedroom, leaving Neal alone.

\--- --- ---

"Good news," Peter said the following Thursday as he walked into the office where Neal was waiting for him. "McClellan confessed to the embezzlement."

"Reduced sentence?" Neal asked.

Peter shrugged and sat down at his desk. "Nothing we can do about that."

Neal looked at him and frowned. It had been nearly a week, and he was pretty sure Peter hadn't looked him in the eye in that entire time. They hadn't talked about what happened, which was fine with Neal, but he didn't like it that Peter was so uncomfortable around him.

"More paperwork today, then?" Neal asked. That's all they had been doing lately and while Neal was bored out of his mind, he was relieved for the break and a few early nights. He didn't think he'd be going undercover on anything interesting until the bruises covering the left side of his face cleared up anyway. Right now, he stood out in a bad way.

Peter shook his head. "Not today. We'll finish it up tomorrow. Elizabeth's father is in town and we're taking him out dinner, so I'm leaving early."

"Sounds fun," Neal replied, smiling, trying for casual.

"Yeah, it should be." Peter looked up from the file on his desk and set his eyes on Neal. Or, more accurately, just beyond Neal's head. "I was going to cut out now. You want a lift or are you going to hang out here?"

"And do paperwork? No thanks, I'll take the ride."

Peter smiled and nodded. "Let's go."

Neal fiddled with his hat as they drove uptown. He hated awkward silences and he was usually good at filling them, but he didn't know what to say this time. Instead of trying to be creative, he looked down at his hands and asked, "Peter, are you ever going to look at me?"

Peter didn't take his eyes off the road. "I look at you all the time."

"Not really," Neal said. "Not since Saturday. We don't have to talk about what happened, but maybe if we could just forget about it. If we could back to before when you respected me."

"I respect you, Neal," Peter said, glancing over this time. He took a deep breath. "What I said last week -- when I said you were a... I didn't mean that. It was uncalled for and you didn't deserve it. I'm sorry."

Neal stared at him and smiled. "Wow, Peter, I'm impressed. Thank you."

Peter shrugged. "When McClellan said it to you... _he_ didn't respect you, and I should have. I don't want to be like him."

Warmth flooded Neal's body. "You're not," he replied.

They were quiet until Peter pulled in front of June's house. He turned off the car and reached into his pocket, retrieving a long white envelope. He held it out to Neal. "Here."

Neal took it and carefully pulled it open to find ten one hundred dollar bills. Puzzled, he looked up at Peter. "What is this?"

"Your fee," Peter replied. "I was able to get it out of McClellan's accounts when the Bureau seized his assets. You earned it."

A slow grin spread across Neal's face as he tucked the envelope inside his jacket pocket. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

"I know I didn't." Peter took a deep breath. "Neal, we're never going to agree on this, but I know you're better than being an escort. You're too smart and too valuable to be put at risk like that. And it was our own fault for not protecting you. It was my fault. You're my responsibility. You have countless other skills to help us solve cases and we're going to use those. This won't happen again. I don't care what suspect you used to sleep with. You might not think it's important, but I do."

"I think it's important not to get smacked in the face," Neal said lightly. "But the bruised jaw and the black eye were worth it since we got him."

"No. None of what happened was worth it, Neal. We went about it the wrong way."

Neal shook his head, laughing softly. "Would you be saying that if he hadn't hit me?"

"I hated him the second he put his hands on you," Peter said. "That's why I've had a hard time looking at you. I see those bruises and I think about everything I heard when the two of you were in his penthouse and I want to rip his head off. I can't do my job if I'm vengeful. That's not what I'm supposed to do."

"Oh," Neal said, his smile gone. "Peter, it was just a job."

"No, it wasn't," Peter replied. He leaned over and, cupping Neal's right cheek, kissed him.

Neal froze for a split second, his whole body going numb and tingling, before he pressed back against Peter's lips. He hadn't seen it coming, but now that it was happening, it felt like exactly the right thing to do. This was what he wanted. It made perfect sense.

He reached up and slid his hands into Peter's hair, and he let out a soft, helpless noise when Peter's tongue touched his own. He heard Peter groan, and Neal tried to pull him closer, but at the awkward angle in the car, and both of them still in their seat belts, it was impossible.

"Wait," Neal said against Peter's mouth and he pulled back. "What about Elizabeth?"

Peter laughed. "I've been talking this over with her all week. She's the one who said that I should kiss you."

"But you're not leaving her, right?"

"No, no, of course not." Peter grinned. "All of this is under the very strict condition that I don't fall out of love with her. Which I think we both know is impossible."

Neal grinned and he kissed Peter briefly, before asking, "And the Bureau? What about that?"

"We'll work it out," Peter replied, gently combing his fingers through Neal's hair. "We'll figure it out all out soon. I'd invite you over for dinner, except we're going out with El's father. How about tomorrow night? The three of us can talk this over."

Neal nodded. "Sounds great." He sat back and took a deep breath, then smiled at Peter. "I was going to settle for you looking at me like your partner again. I thought you saw me so differently now."

Peter's face flushed. "I do see you differently," he said.

"I meant--"

"I know what you meant. And I don't care about the past." Peter paused. "Well, I _care_ , but I don't want to to think about anyone else touching you ever again. Except for maybe my wife. When did you...?"

Neal flipped his hat on his head and grinned. "Just now. I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter smiled, and Neal suspected that Peter didn't quite believe him. "Tomorrow."

Neal got out of the car and started down the sidewalk. He turned around when he was halfway to the house to flash Peter one last smile. He saw Peter grin and raise his hand in a casual wave before turning on the car and pulling away from the curb.

That hadn't been where Neal saw that conversation going at all.

Grinning, Neal supposed he could live with that.


End file.
